


Dragon Age - Inquisition Drabbles

by bloodhound570



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cassandra - Freeform, Cauthrien - Freeform, Dragon Age Inquisition, F/M, Gen, Other, Post-Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodhound570/pseuds/bloodhound570
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Ferelden Nobleman Garlan Bryland finds himself in the middle of the Inquisiton's campaign to save Thedas. </p>
<p>The story will be made up of short chapters dropping in and out of the experiences of Garlan and his companions as the Inquisition battles the evils throughout Thedas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Age - Inquisition Drabbles

The blazing sun beat down hard on the sandy yard used as a practice arena. Two combatants circled each other slowly, watched by perhaps a dozen half-interested spectators, clad in varying versions of dress in the livery of the Inquisition.

The larger of the two fighters, dressed only in breeches with sweat pouring down his heavily muscled frame snarled and lunged at his adversary. His opponent was too quick and easily sidestepped the tired attack as the wooden practise sword struck nothing but hot, humid air. The nimble opponent in contrast to his brute of a foe was dressed in light armour and took a few steps back to allow himself to wipe the sweat from his brow.  Although the armour did little to impede his movement he could feel himself tiring under the suffocating heat of the sun. Nevertheless, a small smile formed at the edge of his mouth and with his free hand he beckoned his opponent forward once more.

Stenvar was a beast but could be easily frustrated, the calculation that a tactical choice of parries and evasion would lead to an opening seemed to be justified. The large man charged again, this time the swing of his sword was met, the practise swords crashing together before the smaller man pivoted to his side and rammed the point of his weapon into Stenvar’s belly. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he fell to a knee.

 “The killing blow.” His opponent laughed softly through slightly laboured breaths. Stenvar gave only a grunt of acknowledgement in return but nonetheless accepted the offered hand to help him to his feet.

“Well fought.” The giant offered.

“Thank you Ser,” The man replied. “If you’d have kept up such a furious pace for much longer I imagine you would have had me.” It was a polite compliment but with an element of truth, Stenvar was already an impressive warrior, if he could add intelligence to his offensive repertoire he would be near unstoppable.

As Stenvar departed in the opposite direction, his opponent stripped from his own armour, his light woollen undershirt soaked through with sweat from his morning exertions. He dropped the armour next to the fountain at the edge of the yard and dunked his head under the cool surface and held it there. It was not yet noon and already the heat was almost unbearable. As he was prone to do on an almost daily basis Garlan Bryland wondered how he had ended up here, in a remote Inquisition outpost in the middle of the Nevarran desert, rather than back home in the more temperate and comfortable surroundings of his family’s keep in South Reach.

 Feeling refreshed as he pulled his head from the water, he turned to find the Chantry Seeker watching the proceedings in the yard where two new combatants had replaced him and Stenvar. He had not noticed her during his own bout but then he had been more concerned with trying to avoid a bludgeoning.

He walked over to where she stood. The Seeker turned her head to watch him as he came toward her averted her gaze back toward the sparring session without uttering a greeting. That was her style Garlan supposed. ‘Stoic’ he had once overheard someone describe her as and that person was being generous. To Garlan she seemed cold and aloof and did not appear to share a closeness with anybody apart from the dwarf, Varric.

“Morning Cassandra.” He offered.

“Garlan.” Came the simple acknowledgement in her heavy Nevarran accent.

“Running an eye over the troops?” He asked as he leaned his shoulder against the stone wall.

“Talent spotting I suppose you could say.” The Seeker replied, still not bothering to look in his direction. “You’ve managed to prove yourself to the Inquisitor and now he is looking to see if anyone else from our ranks can be promoted to a similar position.”

 His proving as Cassandra has so eloquently understated had been lending his assistance to a small group of Inquisition troops, including Cassandra and the Inquisitor himself, being attacked by a large force of bandits. That had been over two months ago and Garlan Bryland had found himself going from wandering adventurer to a prominent position within the Inquisition, fighting alongside its most notable combatants.

“See anything you…” Garlan’s question stopped as he winced as the wooden hilt of once fighter’s sword crushed the nose of her opponent. Sparring was known to be rough at times and the winning fighter provided such an example, leaving no room for the belief that the first strike had been an accident as she levelled her already reeling opponent with a hard punch.

“Ser Cauthrien certainly has…talent” Garlan dryly observed as the dark haired woman strode from the yard, not bothering to look back at her fallen partner and leaving a number of  her compatriots to help the dazed man to his feet.

For a brief moment the young nobleman was certain he saw the ghost of a smile cross Cassandra’s lips.


End file.
